


The Wayward Bird

by rinkuyaaa



Series: I can't let go (and I don't think I want to) [1]
Category: Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkuyaaa/pseuds/rinkuyaaa
Summary: This is part one (The Prequel) of my series! I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it! Rose is my precious CHILD, and will be a side character I want to focus on. Her appearance in comics is always really cool, but her innocence is never done justice. Death stroke (2014) makes her look like a hoe in all honesty. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy my portrayal of DC's Nightwing and Deathstroke.-Rinkuyaaa





	The Wayward Bird

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one (The Prequel) of my series! I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it! Rose is my precious CHILD, and will be a side character I want to focus on. Her appearance in comics is always really cool, but her innocence is never done justice. Death stroke (2014) makes her look like a hoe in all honesty. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy my portrayal of DC's Nightwing and Deathstroke.
> 
> -Rinkuyaaa

Dick remembered the day he sought out Slade Wilson. Bruce’s temper had been explosive, Dick’s kidnapping and firing finally taking toll. Dick had scurried from the manor in a fit of tears, his breaking point at its peak as well. He lay in his mess of comforters and burnt traditional incense to ground himself. He was drinking chamomile tea when his phone started vibrating, Alfred’s photograph flashing on his phone screen. Dick gingerly picked up the vibrating phone, brushing away stray tears that escaped him unwillingly.

“Master Dick?”

He willed his voice to calm. “Yeah?”

“Are you alright? I heard what happened.”

Dick chuckled wetly. Of course, nothing went past Alfred in the Wayne household.

“It was just a stupid fight, I’m fine now, I guess.”

Alfred was quiet on the other line.

“He was only trying to protect you. Firing you is the only way he thought he could do that.”

“I know.” Dick replied. His chest and esophagus were tight with emotion, but he managed to express what he needed to get out. He couldn’t let Alfred know what really happened.

“Did he put his hands on you?”

“No.” The lie escaped him much more easily now. Didn’t make him any less guilty though.

“...Very well, Master Dick.”

“Thanks for checking up on me, Alfie.”

“You are most welcome, Master Dick.”

The phone was disconnected, and Dick put his head into his knees. His eyes were reddened by moisture, and he tucked his cold feet into his blanket. 

Then, he remembered.

Dick unwinded himself from his couch, and picked up his smartphone again. He imputed a number he had sworn to himself never to dial. It only rang twice before the low answer came.

“Grayson?”

“I want to learn. Tell me the time and place. I’ll be there.”

The man was silent before responding.

“No. Bring a change of clothes, too. You’re staying with me. Something must have happened for you to actually take me up on my offer.” 

Dick nodded before he even realized the man wouldn’t be able to see him.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

The call ended with a click.

 

...

 

Contacting the mercenary was not his smartest or brightest idea, but he had been in pain. 

Slade had offered him a place by his side years ago, when he was still a Teen Titan as his apprentice. When Slade offered, he remembered scoffing amusedly. He had scorned him, swore never to even be tempted to Slade’s kind of society. But, here he was now, in a shady, dingy corner of Gotham. It was a risk to be maskless, but he was pretty sure Slade knew what he looked like underneath. Bruce would freak out if he went out barefaced, given he was the adopted son of a popular celebrity, so he wore black shades. He wasn’t stupid.

He wore a dark blue hoodie, his hair limp on his forehead. Slung over his shoulder was a large bag filled with enough clothing to last him a while. A black, nondescript SUV pulled up next to him, the door’s locks clicking open.

Dick climbed in without a word.

 

...

Dick stood in the middle of a round dining area, the home bright with warm sunlight.

“Thank you, Wintergreen, for the ride.”

“Of course, Richard. It was my pleasure. Head upstairs to the first door on your right. Slade’s waiting for you in his office.” The older man pointed at the large staircase across the living room and went into the kitchen alone.

Dick nodded and turned away, walking into the large foyer that contained the previously mentioned living room.

He wandered through the spacious home, climbing the stairs with a light hold on the banisters. He quietly padded to what he believed was the office and rapped his knuckles on the hardwood door.

“Slade? Are you in there?”

He was surprised by Slade’s quiet reply. A short “Come in” was said before he pushed the door open.

Dick’s mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ at the sight before him. 

Slade was holding a small child on his lap, the small couch accentuating his large body. They both stared at him curiously. The child had glassy blue eyes, and straight, pale hair. She wore pink overalls and an intricate, golden bracelet on her left hand. She looked at him the same way he looked at her, shock over-riding her features. 

Dick closed his mouth with a click and approached him. Slade caught the questioning look before addressing him directly.

“She is my daughter.”

Dick hesitantly sat next to him. He was made immediately uncomfortable by the scene in front of him.

He and Deathstroke had a rich history together, as they often crossed paths on opposing sides. Slade was the Teen Titan’s most abhorred supervillain, wanted in several states for unresolved assassinations and murders of important political figures. He did whatever his clients needed of him before vanishing off the map. One day he is killing the president of an African country, in another he was taking down an awol group of Neo- Nazis accused of raping and slaughtering a young black boy. The men had been aquitted by the police by dawn (paid off, he suspected, as the town was deeply conservative) and were released by the next morning when they supposedly couldn’t be tied to the crime scene. Their rotting carcasses were found later that day, a rumor going around that several grieving parents pooled their money together to pay off a certain freelance soldier.

Both cases were clean, no show of emotion behind any of the crimes. He didn’t really try to solve the case as to what happened to those Nazis because, to put it quite frankly, he didn’t care. He had read over that case file. They were a group of vile, abominable individuals: he’d even hoped their deaths would strike fear among their own and discourage the hate crime rates.

Batman and Robin have fought their fair share of fear-mongerers, but nothing was quite as satisfying as smashing into the jaw of a race-hating terrorist. The Terminator was allowed this singular victory.

 

But, watching Deathstroke of all people be so gentle with the small child in his arms almost made him question everything he knew about the man.

They were comfortably silent for a while. The little girl was only a few years old, her grubby hands around a plush doll. Dick realized, witholding a grin, that it was a classic Robin plushie, a limited edition doll with a working staff and utility belt. The hair was in his original gelled spikes, and exaggeratedly large boots weighed it down. He was still Robin now, but clothed maskless in jeans and a hoodie didn’t really spark any recognition from the girl. It was probably only a coincidence. 

Slade ran his fingers through her hair one last time before addressing her directly.

“Go play with Wintergreen now, sweetheart. I need to speak with a friend now.”

Slade’s daughter jumped off his lap with surprising agility, landing lightly on her feet. With one last suspicious glance at Dick, she gracefully waltzed out of the office. Dick turned to him, a questioning look overtaking his features. His softened features stayed as he met Dick’s eyes. Slade did not beat around the bush.

“What happened? And before you even think about lying, remember who you’re talking to.”

Dick stiffened. He was still wearing his hood and perhaps he shouldn’t trust the man before him. But if he went to Barbara or Raven or Cyborg, they would’ve all tried to confront Bruce about it. Dick raised his hands to his thin hood and pulled it down before he lost his nerve.

The shadow that his hood cast over his bruise was gone, and the injury was prominent on his light, brown skin. The purple bruise was on the very thin, breakable bone of his left eye. Slade stiffened, wintry eye running on his form and searching for any other injuries.

 

“He didn’t hurt me. Not really.”

Slade hesitantly reached out and pulled Dick closer. The tension between them was tangible. They shared the same energy, the lit fireplace swirling lightly on the other side of the room. They were bathed in its warm light, as Slade looked at him with an indescribable focus that he felt deep in his spine. 

Slade lifted his hand and delicately set it on his cheekbone, feeling the tenderness of the wound. Dick sighed at the gentle touch, cheeks suddenly heating at the sound. He hadn’t meant to let it out. Slade hadn’t stopped touching though, so he guessed it didn’t bother him. Seeing Slade’s facial expressions was strange too, considering he always wore a mask when fighting the Titans. He knew what he looked like, saw his face when his friends had freed him from the apprenticeship.

Slade pulled his hand back silently, Dick almost pouting childishly at the withdrawal. Slade stared appraisingly at him, “Does this happen often?” He inquired.

Dick licked his dry lips before answering.

“We’ve had fights before. It’s only gotten worse because of of my attitude.”

Slade’s eyebrow twitched.

“So, it is your fault that Bruce lost his temper and beat you.”

Dick nodded. His vision blurred again and he hid his face in his hands.

Dick knew it was not true. He didn't think it was his fault. He didn’t. It’s just that he tended to worsen Bruce’s already volatile temper, and they were always going at it with one another. He already lived full-time with his friends, at Titans Tower. Dick and Bruce only saw each other on holidays now, and they were fine, then. 

Dick knew he had tried to get a rise out of Bruce on purpose, missing their closeness. He knew Bruce did too. 

Their squabble had turned into a full blown screaming match before Bruce slapped him, shocking both himself and Dick.

 

...

 

The Batmobile pulled into the cave, roaring engines powering down. Bats were screeching overhead, and Batcow was languidly eating hay in her corner, ears twitching. At the Batmobile’s opening, Robin hobbled out and ripped off his mask. Batman hovered behind him, following him with an equally stiff expression.

“Those people could’ve gotten hurt because of your recklessness! You have to listen to me-"

“I had it under control, Bruce! Two-Face only kept me for a week! We were able to stop the plan before it even took shape!”

Batman rounded on him and grabbed his shoulders. Hard. Bruce was only this angry when he was scared.

“You were kidnapped! Without a trace! You could not possibly have foreseen the bomb placement. We were so close to losing the mall and everything in it! Don’t you see? You could have been blown to pieces, or stabbed to death and left to rot in that basement!”

“Why can’t you trust me?!” Dick had tears gathering in his eyes now. 

Batman’s teeth gritted, words just spilling from his lips like acid before he could think, “I can’t trust you to stay alive!”

Robin quieted, stomach curling in sickness, eyes focused on Bruce intensely.

“What are you-”

Batman sighed, shoulders tensing, “I’m firing you. I don’t need you by my side any longer.”

Dick’s fists clenched, “You can’t just kick me out. I won’t let you,” 

Batman turned his back. Had Jason, sweet little Jason, gone through this? Jason was gone, buried and left to rot underneath Wayne Manor.

Jason...

Dick yelled and lunged in a manic daze, built up exhaustion finally at its last nerve.

“You can’t do this! Don’t you dare turn your back on me-”

The bastard had then turned around, kevlar covered glove backhanding Robin in the face. Robin hit the cave wall, hard. He slid down, legs going out from under him. It was then he noticed Batman’s horrified expression. His hands shook as he quietly pulled off his cowl to look at Robin. He held his cheek, still in shock at what just had transpired.

Batman reached out, “Dick-”

 

Robin slapped the hand extended toward him and ran, clutching his cheek. He almost bowled over Alfred in hysterics. He could hear both Bruce and Alfred calling after him as he ran through the hallways, Bruce’s voice filled with guilt and regret.

“Dick! Come back!”

Robin wrenched open both manor doors and ran down the concrete steps, throwing on a black sweater. His motorcycle was parked on the driveway, just the way he left it from before he was kidnapped by Two-Face. He hopped onto it and keyed the ignition, almost smashing into Wayne Manor’s gate in his escape to freedom. He risked another look back. He caught Alfred and Bruce’s forms on the steps before turning into the streets and speeding away. He was going well over the mile limit and he could care less about the startled honks reaching his ears as he rode precariously.

He managed to make it to Bludhaven without incident. He parked his motorcycle outside of the shitty 3 story apartment. He had pulled on a huge hoodie over his costume while escaping the manor, and his dark green pants weren’t that out of place. He kept his hood and eyes down as he made his way to the apartment. He headed inside the old building, the man at the desk had a hat over his face, his snores echoing in the room.

Dick headed up the creaky stairs, where he struggled to pull out his keys to the ramshackle apartment. His cold fingers met the metal surface in a compartment in his jeans and clicked it open. He stood in front of his room as he turned the lock and entered. He pulled off his hoodie and sprawled out on the couch. He curled up, pulling his knees up to his hollow chest.

 

He had never felt so alone.

...

 

Slade was eerily focused on him throughout the story, not even halting him for any questions. He leaned back when he was done, feeling much better now that he was able to share what he had to. Slade leaned his arms on his knees, Dick's body relaxing at the open gesture. Slade fixed his singular eye on him, cheeks becoming heated again at the intensity of the stare.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Slade demanded, “This isn't something you can necessarily take back if needed. You’ll be away from your team, your family for the next few weeks. You’ll be on a strict training regimen, and I’ll have you help me mission-wise if needed.”

A soft creak was heard in the opening of the door. His mood only heightened at the sound, catching a wisp of white hair in the hall. Dick turned to the doorway, a pink shoe also peeking out of the opening. He turned back to Slade, a melancholy smile on his lips.

“Sure. I think I’m tired of being the hero all the time. For now, anyway. I’m ready.”

Slade was mildly impressed by his confession. He turned to the doorway, his softened features returning.

“I can see you, Rose. Come out.”

The little girl moved out of her hiding place and sheepishly ran over to her father, seeking refuge behind his form. Slade placed his hand on her arm, eye fixed on the now former Robin.

 

“...I’m sure you’ll do nicely, Renegade.”


End file.
